


Caridin's Cross

by Werecakes



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anders/male hawke - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Thilbo, bagginshield, thorin/bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:45:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werecakes/pseuds/Werecakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lost kingdoms of the dwarfs have been buried and forgotten in Middle Earth. When a traveler from a far off land called Thedis whispers of a place Bilbo can't help but explore uncovering a whole knew world that intertwines the lives of not only Bilbo and Thorin but Hawke and Anders.</p><p>Dragon Age II x The Hobbit</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just a Piece, a small piece.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a cross over between the two most wonderful things of fantasy to be ever created. Dragon Age and The Hobbit. Please leave prompts as messages or PM me and I'll add them into the story.

Dwarfs were stubborn. Dwarfs were hard headed. Dwarfs were selfish, unyielding, and insufferable! So why did Bilbo Baggins like them so much? His best friend, Bofur, was a wonderful man, infact if Bilbo had not known any better he would have sworn that Bofur was half Hobbit with how polite and understanding he was. Bifur... he was still trying to learn Khuzdul to understand even a small part of what the man was saying. Bombur was fun to be around when it was time to cook, the only reason why he was as big as he was had been due to his love of food, something the halfling could fully understand. Ori... he didn’t know how to react around Ori nor Dori or Nori, mostly because one was still in a teenage phase trying to show how good he could be in anything though he excelled in being a scholar and the other two... not exactly social butterflies but they get along well enough with Bilbo. Speaking of young, Fili and Kili had their moments that drove Bilbo up the wall while other times he just smiled at them and admired their energy and their ability to grow. Balin, he liked Balin. He was wise and kind hearted and almost acted like a grandfather to everyone in the group. Dwalin... frankly he scared Bilbo. Oin and Gloin were a good sort, the older doctor was very useful in their expedition and Gloin, though not truly one to mingle made Bilbo feel more comfortable to be around than with Dwalin. Then there was Thorin. The whole reason why he was hitting the bottom of his tankard so fast and ordering another from the bar keep.

That reckless, thick headed, sheep kicking, flower plucking, rose cutting fool! Bilbo went out of his way to separate the two of them from the rest of their group so that they could address something pressing and what did Thorin do? Ignored what Bilbo had to say. Swept it under the rug like he always did. Then he did the unthinkable!

Thorin had kissed him! KISSED HIM! Like he had been some Shire lass that had been pining after him for years. Sure, maybe for a little bit of time but that was still so so... unheard of! You don’t just kiss someone! That was preposterous! You had to get permission to court first, then you courted for over two years minimum and only then did you kiss someone on the cheek. Just kissing someone on the lips was... was... 

Bilbo flushed deeper as his heart started to pump faster making his drink get to his head faster. Yes, he liked the kiss. Yes it took his breath away, but there were certain things that he could not leave behind even though he was on an adventure and courting was one of them.

“You look like you need another drink.” Bofur placed down two more pints of different ciders and ales beside the one Bilbo just had refilled. “Did he... really... you know?”

“YES!” Bilbo blurted out so loud that the company of Thorin Oakenshield paused in their merriment, passing a glance between the hobbit on one side of the room and their king on the opposite side. The two glared at one another before Thorin turned his head and acted as if no such outburst had happened. His cheek still a little red from where Bilbo had slapped him.

Bofur only smiled and rubbed Bilbo’s back. “Don’t be holdin’ it against him. We’ve got a lot different between the two of our peoples.”

“What?” Bilbo asked with a little drunken hiss not understanding.

“Hobbits and Dwarfs court differently.” All he got was a look that was reserved for when someone had just stated the most obvious thing in the world. He sighed. “Dwarfs don’t have courtin’ Bilbo. We see someone we like and we go for ‘em until we are completely rejected or we get what we want.”

Bilbo whirled on Bofur, his eyes wide. He huddled towards his friend and whispered, “You mean to tell me that he’s been with others so easily?”

“No! No, I’m sayin’ we’re different creatures.”

But Bilbo didn’t hear him, only glared at Thorin’s figure across the room. He scowled and turned up his nose when the king looked to him. Bilbo was no tart to be stuffed into the pocket to be saved for later. He was no easy win to gain. Infact in the Shire most hobbits had actually stopped trying to court him because he was, even in hobbit terms, a prude. Personally, Bilbo felt that he was taking extra precautions, he came from a rich family, his mother was a well known woman from the head of the Took family. He had to watch his assets and he had no desire to wed someone that was just after an easy life.

“Bilbo, you shouldn’t be givin’ ‘em such a hard time. It was a misunderstand’in between- Wait, where are you goin’?” Bofur got up from his seat as the Hobbit just got up.

“I need air.” Bilbo started walking out in a huffed strut. It was more that he wanted to get out of the room. Deep down he knew it was something small that he should forgive and let slide but his Baggins side would not allow it. 

He trudged outside of the tavern they had stopped at for the night. The light fuzzy, spin of his head from his stout drinks only allowed the cold night air to gently his skin with a delicious contrast. It was a fine, clear night, the stars bright overhead. The town they were in had been a small one with little crime making it safe to walk at night. With that decided, he put his hands into his pockets and walked. He let his feet take him where they wished, pulling along a trail of thoughts that dealt with their adventure as well as the nagging need to put his anger behind him and go back to the king and state fully that if he wanted Bilbo he had better step up his game and court him properly.

Eventually he found himself outside of town and in a large field. He let out a long sigh sitting down and looking up at the sky... maybe he was being too much of a prude. Maybe he really should just let things slide and get Bofur to help him understand everything. Dwarfs, beside being stubborn and insufferable, were loving and gentle, had the best smiles and warmest chuckles and safest, most wonderful hugs that he never wanted to be released from and.... and Bilbo felt like a fool now. He’s been throwing a fit all this time and the kiss was wonderful and perfect and Thorin didn’t deserve to be slapped over being himself.

He let out a loud groan hating himself for leaving the tavern and letting his head clear so quickly in the night air. So stupid.

“Fine, fine!” He said out loud to no one in particular. “You win, I’ll go back and apologize but that’s it. No more.”

A strange laugh reached his ears. A jovial cackle that seemed too old and too young all at once.

“My but you are interesting.”

Bilbo jerked to his feet, his face flushing at having been heard saying such improper things. A grown man, whining like a child, how embarrassing! He was about to excuse himself when he saw who had spoken.

Eyes, a piercing gold color, set in a face that was indeed elderly. The woman had white hair tied in ribbons that formed up into swoops making her hair look almost like the horns of dragons he had seen drawings of in books. She had a mixture of plated armor over her arms and legs with red leather, the studs and raven feathers reflecting the moonlight of the beautiful night. Bilbo had to admit she had a beautiful figure for an older woman, but it was her eyes that he was most drawn too. They did not seem... natural. 

She carefully stepped around him in a circle looking him up and down. Her dark painted lips fixed up in a quark. “What is your name small one?”

“Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins. A-at your service, and I’m not a ‘small one’ I’m a hobbit. I would be most obliged to know yours.”

She laughed that odd laugh once again, “So polite, it is good to see that manners thrive in someone. I have many names, Asha’bellanar, Flemeth, an old hag that talks too much.” She chuckled with fondness towards the last one. “Humor an old woman and tell her the story which concerns you so.”

“I...” She stopped moving and stood in front of him, her hip cocked to the side with a hand to her chin, ready to listen and think deeply upon whatever he said. He felt pressed to confess something, anything, to the stranger that held herself with such commanding stature. So he told her of how his current adventure had begun and what had taken them this far. He did however leave out Thorin and his kiss and the more personal matters.

She waved her hand as her smile grew making him feel more on edge. “I see. A gentlefolk that had his strings pulled deep into the roads of the earth. A merrionette carried by someone else’s will.”

“I wouldn’t go as far to say that. I did come of my own will.” Bilbo said rather proudly.

Flemeth looked down at him, “Tell me, of this... adventure of yours, the leader of your company, does he lust for gold yet? The riches poison his mind like those before him.”

“For...” Bilbo’s brows knitted. “He will not. He is a better person to have such a thing happen to him.”

“Such faith. And tell me, if it is not his lust for gold why do you hide the ring in your pocket?”

He paled. He had never told anyone of the ring, in fact he kept it only in his pocket and had yet to put it on again. “How did you-”

She reached out, her clawed gauntlet kindly touching his face. “I see a kindness in your face unknown to this world, yet blanched by the common greed to spoil the living. Though obtaining such an object you remain so pure.” She dropped his chin and smirked, “Very well. An answer for an answer little one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I require the knowledge of where this Rivendell is located.”

Eager to get this behind him and to be as far away from this odd, scary lady he pointed to the west and gave simple directions to what he remembered being the way. He did make sure to note to the woman that indeed he did not have be best of directions considering everything as she knows from his tale and to please forgive him if it is not completely accurate.

“Now for your answer. There is a cave not far from here. Travel down to the lowest part and turn left there will be a crack in the cave wall, open it and you will be rewarded with what you seek.”

“Seek? But I don’t seek anything, I- where... did she go?” He looked around finding Flemeth completely gone. His muscles tensed as he felt like he had just had a brush with the devil.

“Bilbo~ Bil-there you are!” Bofur’s familiar voice came to him. He quickly turned and ran to his friend in all hopes that being in the safety of the dwarves would make him forget what had just happened.

To Be Continued...


	2. You are not allowed to leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garrett is the default name for male Hawke. If anyone wants to know. Also, thank you for everyone that has commented so far! I love you guys!

Hawke strode quickly in a fast pace. His eyes burned with a frightful pace. After everything had gone through he was not losing his mage. They had escaped Kirkwall, lived through the Vimmark Mountains and even had to deal with a stupid elf girl thought herself to be a bit more than she had to offer. He had stayed strong through everything all so he could be with that stupid, moronic, insufferable mage! And what does he do after they settle for five years in their own home away from everything happy as could be? He leaves a Dear John letter and high tails it to the deep roads because of some stupid “calling”. Hawke wasn’t blind as to the slow slip of Ander’s mind. After what he did to the Chantry and going down to the deep roads and finding Larius... how twisted he had become... his eyes no longer human, his body held twisted as the darkspawn overlooked him... All he could see was his Anders like that and it infuriated him. He lost everything! And even now his lover had run off and he would be damned by the maker himself first before Hawke let that man go.

He got down on his knees and slipped across dirt and stone sliding out into the underground light of one of the lost deep roads. He tumbled gritting his teeth as the jars of potions and his provisions jabbed him in the back a few times until he corrected himself to slide on his but and heels down the slope and onto an ancient tiled floor. He stood up not caring to pad the dirt off of him as he tried to collect his bearings. He had lost all of his maps in Kirkwall and it had been so long since he had been under the surface and he had been travelling for well over a month living off of deepstalker meat and underground river water.

Stepping in a small circle he took in his surroundings and the small posts that stood up high. A lost language to the dwarfs. Then he realized where he was: Caridin’s Cross. If memory served he could find the anvil of the void to the right... Anders hated that place to his core... so the best bet was to find an abandoned thaig. Which... could be in any direction. He was lost. Which meant that he had only one choice, he had promised Anders he would never dabble in it again after what happened to Hawke’s mother and Merrill’s tribe, but... he was desperate. If he couldn’t find Anders he had a back up plan. Throw himself into the biggest pit of darkspawn and fight until he dies.

He set his bag down, taking out an article of clothing into his gantlet clad hand and pulled it to his face. He took in a deep breath of Ander’s sent, making his head feel fuzzy and his body relax. It made his heart ache and increased his need to wrap his arms around his love once more.

Hawke put the garment on the ground and closed his eyes. He focused on Anders as hard as he could while whispering some words. He moved his hand to his arm and started to carve small symbols into the exposed parts of his forearm. A hissing red light came up from the wound before the blood beaded up to run down and drop onto the clothing. The blood magic eased into the fabric before disappearing completely. The sound of a bell rang in the distance. He snatched up the garment and stuffed it into his bag and ran after the sound of the bell. It was a simple location spell that he had learned when they had been on the run. Typically he used it with a lot of lyrium, but his lyrium supplies were few and far between so he had been relying on a small piece of blood magic to get him this far.

He followed the sound of the bell until it stopped, moving as quickly as he could. It had not been nearly this loud before, he had hoped that it mean that Anders was close. Close enough for- The side of the cave wall opened up into a maw of darkness. It was too late to notice though, his foot was already falling down, his body following in the momentum. A hand shot out grabbing him by his pack and pulling hard bringing him colliding into someone that stumbled and fell onto the floor.

“Andraste’s Knickerweasels, what were you thinking just running-” His words had been cut off from Hawke turning around and grabbing the mage in a heated kiss. Familiar hands tangled in his hair, his blond locks being pinched by the one metal clad hand.

The kiss broke and there was sharp sting of a hit to his face that caused his vision to burst with little lights.

“You idiot!! You damnable fool!” Hawke yelled as he pent up rage suddenly surfaced. “What do you think you were doing?! You do not get the privilege of just walking into my life and then walking out!”

Anders held his burning cheek, “I told you I would break your heart someday! I warned you!”

“And I told you that no matter what I’m going to be here with you and that includes the calling! Even after...” His voice became gentle, his hands gripping Anders pauldrons as the anger gave way to the fear of losing his soul mate. “I can’t lose you. Not you.”

Anders heart ached. He had hoped to spare Hawke the pain of seeing him turn into a warped creature like Larius. He had prayed to the Maker every day he could fight it but it only grew stronger along with Justice’s whisper. His friend yearned for the Fade more by the passing day. He woke up as Justice one day and had to fight to be himself. That was when he had known that he needed to leave. To try and leave Hawke with what little good memories they had been able to scavenge for.

“I’m sorry my love.” And he meant it. He kissed Hawke’s brow and ran his fingers through his mangy beard that was in desperate need of trimming.

“You’re lucky I have a habit of forgiving fools.”

“Not according to Varric's stories.” Anders tried for a bit of humor. It was quiet after that. They both missed their friends back in Kirkwall. Most over Varric who seemed to not care one way or another if you were a mage, elf, dwarf, or a human that had power. Everyone was the same to him, even the Qunari.

“He did love his stories...” Hawke murmured, “Caught him once charging admission to hear them.”

“Don’t tell me which one because if I know that man then it was about us.”

“It was.”

Anders groaned, mostly from the realization that Varric had been charging to tell a mixture of women and men about his and Hawke’s overly rambunctious need to be together and a little from the throb in his cheek. “Did you really slap me or punch me?”

“I don’t know, I just hit you... you deserved it.” All the fight was out of Hawke’s voice as he wrapped his arms around Anders and refused to let go. The mage only nodded. He was stuck with Hawke, for better or for worse and that seemed to calm the constant chatter in his mind. “I will make a home down here with you if we need.”

His eyes teared up, for Maker’s sake Hawke was too good to be with him. Anders had asked himself so many times why he loves him but all Hawke said was: “I determine who is worthy of my love and I have chosen you.” It was a wonderful way of saying, “I love you, deal with it, and shut up.”

The mage had to swallow hard to reign in his emotions that were on the edge of rampaging. He had been prepared to never see his love again only to save him from falling in a deep cavern at the oddest of times in the strangest of places. “No, no I shall go with you.” He finally spoke.

“Good, because I don’t really fancy being in a place with no light. I do wonder why dwarfs like it so much.” Hawke pushed himself up only to have unfamiliar hot breath puff on his face. “Anders... don’t move.”

Suddenly a round mouth was on his face, biting down on jaw and neck. He let out a shout, rolling off of Anders and punching at the small body of the deepstalker. Anders reached down and grabbed the creature by the neck and squeezed as hard as he could forcing it to release.

“Garrett! Are you ok-” Anders was suddenly tackled from the side. Three small, writhing bodies bit at his clothes, digging deep into his skin. He managed to pull one off but stumbled.

As he fell nothing came to catch him. His heart stopped beating, his mind no longer on the creatures on him as he realized he had fallen into the cavern He could barely see anything in that darkness besides the flash of magic lightning and the howl of his beloved.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If you didn’t like her then why are you taking her advice and coming along this strange path?” Bofur asked trotting along in the deep tunnel following Bilbo.

“I don’t know... I suppose I feel compelled to come along this way.” It was honest truth but only part of the truth. The other part was that Thorin had apologized late that night for his transgressions only to do it again this very morning! It was driving him mad! He liked Thorin, yes, but he wanted to be with someone that did not expect a quick fling. After all, once they reclaim Erebor he was going to go back the Shire and Thorin would... stay in Erebor... Their paths were too different, only converging for this one adventure. No. He couldn’t afford a broken heart, so it was best that he took a moment away from the company and do something of his own. Though he was more than happy that Bofur had come he did slightly wish to have been left alone.

“This wouldn’t be because Thorin fancies you, would it?”

Bilbo stopped and rolled his eyes, fixing his lanter up higher. “That’s the problem, he ‘fancies’ me. I don’t want to be with someone that just ‘fancies’ me. I’m a Baggins, I have my pride.”

“Well sorry to have trod on your pride, delicate flower but that’s how dwarfs court.”

“You said you don’t court.”

“It’s as much of courtin’ as we get. You should be considering yourself lucky that the king does fancy you.”

“And why would I be so lucky?”

“Because he’s never f-” before he could say any more Bilbo shushed him.

“Shh, shh! Do you hear that?”

“Sounds like rushing water. Must be an underground river.”

“What river shouts like a man?” Bilbo asked suddenly darting off as fast as he could towards the faint yells.

When he came close to the shores of an inky black river he skidded to a halt. The rapids were so fierce that anyone caught in it would be taken down its bends with in minutes where it would take weeks to walk.

Stuck on some rocks were two men. One just out of the reach of the other. The one with a thick beard was yelling. “Anders, Justice, whoever the hell can hear me, by the Maker wake up!!”

The light from Bilbo’s lanter pulled his attention to the shore. “Help him!” The current nearly swept the man away, he clawed at the rock he was holding like a desperate cat. “Help him, please!”

Bilbo put down his pack and lantern quickly digging through for his rope. He did not have many talents outside of book knowledge but he had helped a fellow hobbit rein in his pigs one autumn. He tied a slip knot into the rope and threw it out into the water. It missed. He pulled it back in and tried again right when Bofur caught up to his side. The dwarf huffed and puffed seeing what was happening.

“You’re not throwing it far enough.” He said grabbing the rope and trying his hand at throwing the loop. It missed twice but on the third time it wrapped around a limp arm. “Got’em, got’em.” He said tightening the rope. Bilbo and Bofur managed to pull the man free and with a little difficulty from the rapids managed to bring the unconscious man to the shore. Once out of the water his wounds started to bleed.

The hobbit pulled out some of his shirts and placed them over the bleeding patches. “Throw the rope to the other now!”

Bofur did as told managing to get the rope around the man’s wrist. He pulled as hard as he could but the distance and the current was taking the rope out of his hands. Bilbo grabbed the rope as well, pulling hard. The rope continued to slide between their hands ripping off skin and darkening with the red from the blood of their hands. They eventually had to just hold on while the man made his own way to the shore.

Finally he scrambled onto the pebbles, breathless. He crawled over to them and checked to make sure the other had been breathing. He gave a heavy sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” He said simply looking up at them.

“You’re quite welcome... can you help your friend? We can take you to somewhere we can help mend those wounds.” Bilbo said politely.

“Yes.” He picked up the bleeding blond. His legs were weak and he nearly collapsed. Bilbo and Bofur helped keep him steady.

“No need to be rushin’ if you need a moment to gather your strength we understand.” Bofur offered.

“I thank you and your wife for helping us but I would rather we find a warm place to be before rest.”

“Oh Bilbo is not my wife.” Bofur was close to laughing his head off at the expression Bilbo was pulling at the stranger’s words. Bilbo growled in the back of his throat and blamed the poor lighting. Dwarven women had beards and large breasts, he did not have either! Bofur grabbed the lantern and moved forward to help guide the group back to the tavern on the surface.

“Shame, you two look nice together.”

“You have strange things to say after someone has saved your life.” Bofur this time laughed as they left Bilbo behind to stew in his rising rage.

Before the light disappeared from his sight he started to move only to have his feet move some pebbles off of something. He brushed the remaining rocks off and picked up a small gold trinket. It was in an odd shape of three points, not a triangle, nor a triskele. He put it in his pack and grabbed the rope and followed after the rest of the group before he was forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me prompts! XD


	3. Plesentries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little slow, Hawke and Thorin finally meet.

Thorin was not happy to say the least. The hobbit had disappeared with Bofur a while ago with a note left behind saying they would be back before he knew better of it. That was a blatant lie. He knew of it soon as Ori gave him the note! Something twisted inside of his gut at the proper handwriting of the hobbit that basically was telling him he was running off with one of his subordinates doing Mahal know what. After hours of pacing with a sour disposition he finally could place the emotion as jealousy. His mind reeled at the closeness the two had. Worse yet they displayed in public their joy of being with one another. It would also explain to him why Bilbo had been so put out with him at the kiss. After all, he didn’t think he was a bad kisser and he made sure it was chaste despite the pulling urges his body wanted to make him do.

This revelation forced the leader to take a long solitary walk away from everything. If Bilbo wanted courtship as the hobbit said after Thorin had apologized then... would that mean that all this time Bofur had been courting the halfling? If so, then his heart was in the wrong. He fell for a claimed person that wished nothing more than to share their life with someone that was not... that wasn’t him...

He broke apart the tall grass blade in his hands, tearing small section off one after another and throwing the small chucks at his feet as he paced.

He always had bad timing. First with recognizing the sickness in his grandfather, starting this adventure, now falling in love with someone that had no room for him in their heart. He was still dealing with this fact and it hurt. It made his chest feel like it was bleeding though no wound was visible.

Thorin sighed looking up at the blue sky overhead. Despite his pain he would accept them. Bofur was a good dwarf, smart, friendly, the best in the toy business so Bilbo would never have a want for money as long as they stayed in a town that had children. He was energetic, full of smiles and his pride was just right and he knew when to let the hobbit go. Bofur showed that before they had been captured by the goblins. Besides... what did he have to offer Bilbo? Empty court halls with no sunlight, riches that make a man insane with the lust of money, a cold and empty dwarf that was too pathetic to admit he had fallen in love with the hobbit, slowly day by day as they talked more and more. Compared to Bofur... Thorin was muck on a shoe. But... he could always make his life bearable, just to see the hobbit smile and be happy. If they needed anything he could always extend a hand to them and wish them all the luck in the world.

He closed his eyes and took in a slow deep breath, watery scent of aspen trees tingled in his nose. The smell had always relaxed him, it meant everything was healthy in the world, perhaps not great, nor good, but well on its way of being so. He took it as a good sign. When Bilbo and Bofur returned he would talk to them and wish them luck.

“Is that- I think it is,” A familiar voice barely caught his ears. “Thorin! Thorin help!”

His eyes snapped open, down the hill, just outside of a cluster of trees there was Bilbo waving at him frantically. “Thorin!”

He didn’t think, he rushed forward to the call of the hobbit, his hands strangely red.

“What’s going on?” He asked slowing his pace coming up the the halfling.

“We need your help.” Bilbo said getting onto his knees and grabbing Bofur’s dirty hands and pulling the dwarf out of the steep hole in the ground.

Thorin gladly helped pull Bofur out of the mouth of the cave. He felt the familiar feel of an open wound, grabbing the dwarf’s hand he turned it palm up to see the torn flesh. “What caused this?” He asked curtly.

“Oh you think mine are bad, Bilbo’s gonna be pick’n pieces of rope outta his hand for weeks,” Bofur panted as he went over to Bilbo and started to pull rope out of the halfling’s pack. “Say what you want about hobbits but sure have tenacity.”

Bofur threw down the rope and shouted out into the darkness, “Tie it as best you can around ‘em and we’ll pull ‘em up!”

The rope moved on the other end before it was tugged on and an unfamiliar voice called up. “He’s ready!”

Bilbo braced his feet as well as Bofur and Thorin. All three grabbed the rope and pulled, hand over hand they slowly pulled an unconscious blond man out of the cave. They took him to the grass and let him lay there while they tossed the rope once more down into the the dark. It was quick pulling up the other man, if not a little harder than the other. When he came out Thorin knew why. He was fulled armored with the most peculiar fittings.

Now with proper light the small group gathered around the unconscious member of their party and started to look him over. There had been a nasty bump on the head, circular bite wounds that have already scabbed over.

“Will he be okay?” Bilbo asked softly.

“Yes,” the stranger with black hair smiled. “All thanks to you and your ‘friend’.”

The way he said friend made Thorin’s eye twitch visibly. “What were you doing down there?” Thorin asked more to Bilbo than any of the others.

“It’s a complicated story.” The man said as he picked up the other from the ground. It didn’t escape the dwarven king’s notice on how he held the other, cradled him close and buried his nose in damp hair. A small pull of lips showed the tender kiss.

Thorin looked at Bilbo direction, the halfling had to do a double take to realize that the dwarf had been looking to him. The halfling squirmed under his gaze as he was not one to lie and hated deceiving people. As a compromise he would keep his mouth shut until the information would be later pried out of him.

“Come, follow me, we will find you and your ‘friend’ a place to stay.” The ‘friend’ in Thorin’s voice was an exact mimic of the stranger’s.

They went to the in that the company was staying only to find that the last room had been rented out only moments before. As it was a small town there was only one tavern with rooms available placing the two in need in a predicament. Thorin looked to them, and sighed. Some times he was much too weak.

“You will take my room.” He stated, leading the way.

“Are you sure?” The man asked. “We don’t even know your name.”

Thorin went down the hall and stopped at his room and turned, “I am Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield. At your service.”

“Garrett Hawke, at yours.” He shifted his arms a little, “And this lovely burden of my life that I would never dream exchanging for another is Anders.”

The dwarf smiled a little. To have a love like that... he envied it. Clearing his throat he pushed open the door. “I will call our healer.” And before Hawke could turn him down Thorin was marching down the hallway back to the main tavern where he knew Oin would be.

Hawke gently laid Anders down on the bed and started to undress him. He frowned at the new scars that he did not remember. Obviously the mage had a few scraps with some darkspawn before he had caught up. One, pink, puckered scar ran up his side and down his abdomen. It had looked deep. A killing blow for anyone that wasn’t an expert healer like Anders.

He cursed under his breath and continued to pull off his lover’s clothing. Once done he grabbed the pitcher and basin off of an end table. He got up and looked around for something to use as a rag, forcing him out of the room where he inquired about more water, soap, and towels to the tavern keeper. He tried looking around for the familiar faces that helped him and Anders and found that he could not spot them. Maybe... they had stepped out for a bit. His stomach churned at a dark possibility. What if they had gone to find and notify the templars?

No. No. They had helped them out of that festering river and pulled them to the safety of the surface... but... they hadn’t known their names at that time. He had to force himself to swallow. He hadn’t thought of that. He should have made up some fake names like... call himself Carver and Anders, Fenris or something. And that alone brought uncomfortable images of his brother pairing with the elf that Hawke found disturbing and was asking himself why he had such a vivid imagination.

He went back to the room feeling a bit more paranoid after that only to find the room door open with Thorin and an elderly dwarf hunched over Anders. The older dwarf had his sleeves rolled up and already had fresh warm water, soap and a cloth and was cleaning the mage of the grime of the deep roads. He felt a knot in his back slowly relax realizing the man was the healer that Thorin had promised. Of course being that the man was a dwarf he had no magical abilities but Hawke could use what little healing magic he knew to aid Anders after the dwarf was done.

“I’m surprised he’s still alive laddy.” The old man said after pressing his horn shaped hearing aid up against Anders’ chest. “Wherever you had been had to be very cold.”

“They did come out of a cave.” Thorin said calmly in his deep voice.

“An underground river too I suspect from how wet they are.” Oin pulled a bar of soap through his hands, lathering it up as Thorin dumped the dirty water in the basin out of the window and replaced it with hot water. With Hawke’s help the moved Anders and the old dwarf worked to cleaning the other’s head while feeling out any injuries. “If you had stayed down there for much longer I would suspect you would have been forgotten.”

“What do you mean?” Hawke asked softly.

“He has the coldness in his bones, boy.” Hypothermia. Hawke felt his throat tighten as the dwarf continued. “He’ll need to be warmed. We’ll build a fire in the hearth and bring hot broth that he will need to drink. Lucky for you, this room has a fireplace.”

“I’ll get a fire started.” Thorin got up and set about getting a good blaze going. While he worked he spoke simply, “You should remove your wet clothing as well master Hawke. It serves no one when two are ill.”

“We got them.” Bilbo’s voice fluttered into the room, the door creaking open from the hobbit having to hope the door with a few fingers and his hip. Clothing and towels piled high to the point he could barely see over the folded articles. Behind him Bofur came in with a heavy looking pot filled with broth that made Hawke’s mouth water at the scent.

“It was hard convincin’ the keeper to let us have the pot for a bit but we got the broth as requested.” Bofur nodded at Hawke with a wink. He placed the pot down on a table and two cups that had rattled in his fingers when carrying the large item.

“Here are some nice dry clothing for you to wear, luckily the trailer across the street had different sizes to choose from. I didn’t know your right size so... I got a bunch, ware what you can and get out those wet clothes.” Bilbo placed the clothes and towels down on the foot of the bed. “Is he, uh, alright Oin?”

Oin finished washing the Anders hair and grabbed a fresh towel from the pile that Bilbo had just placed down. He patted at the soft yellow locks. “Well, he’s got the cold in his bones as I was telling this young man and he has a nasty lump on his head and some impressive bite marks but as long as he’s warmed up, I think he’ll be fine.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Alright, time to go and leave the two alone for a while.” Oin heaved himself up straight, his old bones protesting at the movement. “I think a pint is in order.”

“Thank you, Serrah Oin.” Hawke bowed his head to the old man as he left with a wave of his hand. All of them shuffled out one by one closing the door behind them.

Hawke looked down to the slumbering Anders before shaking his head, “Trouble maker.”

Once out of the room Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s sleeve. The man turned and looked at the halfling that was fidgeting under his gaze. “What is it?” the words may have sounded harsh but the softness in his voice took the edge off of them.

“I, uh, wanted to say.” Bilbo cleared his throat and jutted out his chin. “That was very nice of you to give them your room.”

“They were in need.” Thorin said this as if anyone would have done that for a complete stranger.

“True. True... so... where are you to sleep tonight?”

Thorin hadn’t thought of that, nor did he really care. He kept quiet while he thought it through. He could always try to slip into one of his nephew’s rooms but last time he shared a bed with the boys had woken up in an unruly mess of limbs with their braids tangled. His sister had found them and promptly laughed from then on referring to that night as a “puppy pile”. So that left the others. Oin, Gloin and Dori were sharing a room. Nori, and Ori were in a large room with Fili and Kili. Bifur and Bomber were in a room as well as Dwalin and Balin. Bofur was supposed to have been sharing a room with Gandalf but the wizard had yet to meet back up with them in this small town and Bilbo had lucked out to get a room on his own.

“Then you’ll sleep in my room tonight.”

“No, I cannot.” Thorin said softly. “Why not have Bofur sleep in your room and I can take his.”

“Why would I, never mind, you will be sleeping in my room tonight.” Bilbo said matter of factly. “I insist.”

Thorin could only clench his jaw and nod. Oh this hobbit was going to be the death of him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elrond sat quietly at the round stone table. He swallowed hard as he felt the power ebbing closer. It set him on the edge of his seat, his brow starting to sweat. It had been so long since he had felt anything like it, too long. It set a fright inside of his stomach like nothing else. It was as if spiders came out of his stomach and skittered around on his skin.

When the footsteps fell he took a deep breath through his nose trying to calm himself. The closer each step came the more he had to convince himself that all was well in the world and that this encounter would be fruitless. The likes of which to come to him in his home would become disinterested and leave.

Then that voice spoke. Old and young. Hello with goodbye, and the sweetest poison to drink floated to his ears. “Well, well, well. So I do get to have a proper greeting after all. I was beginning to wonder where all the manners in this part of the world had gone.”

Elrond stood up and turned, placing a hand over his heart and bowing deeply to his guest. “Gi nathlam hí, Asha’bellanar.”

Flemeth smiled in the dark of the night. She had traveled quite the distance and was in no hurry to leave and by the way her host stood he was still wary of her since their last encounter. Oh, but this was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and gave kudos!! You're my heroes!


	4. A little embarrassment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to throw in some romance development.

Thorin pushed Bilbo’s hands into the basin of soapy water. He held back a growl. They had been so busy taking care of those humans that Bilbo had completely forgotten his skin free palms. The red blooded meat showing in some parts and the shirefolk had only thought about it when he went to unbutton his waistcoat and left a small patch of blood. In a way Thorin was admiring the threshold for pain Bilbo had, but it was a sub-thought compared to the ones that were screaming that he should kick Bofur in the pants for letting his... Bofur’s Bilbo get so bad. He had the mind to go right up to the other dwarf and challenge him to the rights of Bilbo’s affection since he was not keen on taking care of him. The only thing stopping him was the soft hiss next to his shoulder and the sudsy water turning pink and brown.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Thorin sniped quietly, under his breath.

“Well we,” a small nudge of pain worked out of Bilbo’s throat from his hands being cleaned. “Nn! We were so caught up with caring for Master Hawke and ow! Ow,” He hissed through his teeth when Thorin pulled a small piece of rope that had been twined in some skin.

Thorin’s movements became more gentle as he worked, his broad thumbs stroking at Bilbo’s wrists every once in awhile helping relieve the pain. “Forgive me...” He mumbled for have causing more discomfort than needed.

“I-It’s quite alright.” Bilbo looked over at the dwarf. The pain started to dull as he watched the prince work. Strong hands made for shaping stone and yet he chose to be so gentle with them. The king’s brown eyes held an emotion denied voice to. His brows knitted and his jaw tight. He was a haunted man, yet he still tried his best to provide for his people, to respect other cultures even after his had been ripped away.

Thorin pulled Bilbo’s hands out of the water and gently dried them. He looked up at the hobbit and squeezed his wrists in a way that set a reassurement in Bilbo. Though his hands hurt all he saw were Thorin’s intense eyes, swimming with an emotion that tugged at Bilbo’s heart. “You are a good man Master Baggins, first you come on an adventure where I had tried to scare you away from, then you saved my life and now theirs. I wish to forbid you from getting hurt but your pain would be greater than any wound if knew you could have helped and had not.”

Bilbo his heart skip his beat at the soft words the dwarf spoke. After he had saved Thorin from Azog’s thug the king had been gentler, more observant to the halfling. But he had never said something so... so... sweet. He felt a little heat in his cheeks and pulled his wrists free from that lovely hold. He cleared his throat, “Yes, well... thank you for... helping me with my wounds.” He shuffled away from Thorin to his pack. “I do believe I have some bandages still.”

“Would you like me to help with those?”

“No! No, I, thank you but no. I can do this on my own.” To be honest he just didn’t want to be so close to Thorin at the moment. His Took side was arguing with the Baggins; Took understood that not all cultures were that of the hobbits and to embrace it, cut Thorin some slack. Baggins was a different story. It said Bilbo was a Baggins of Bag End and by no means was to be persuaded into forgetting the long traditions that the hobbits have lived by for so many generations. The only thing that calmed him down was the distance between them. It slowed his heart, un-muddled his mind, and allowed him to breath. After all... wasn’t Thorin only “fancying” him because he did save Thorin’s life? If the king actually did like him, then he wanted it to not be under a pretense that would make those emotions forced.

For the rest of the night Bilbo kept his distance from Thorin. Laying out his bed roll so that Thorin could have the bed as a personal thank you to the dwarf for helping their strange new friends. In the morning he woke a little sore but mostly from his hands. He sat up stretching and found the bed empty. Figuring that Thorin had already been up he picked himself off of the floor and set about dressing for the day. He stripped off his shirt and found the clean basin and poured some water in it and gave himself a quick, light, washing. Once done he moved away, stripping off his pants and small clothes and tossed them over his shoulder. A gruff grunt made him whirl around in surprise seeing Thorin sitting up with Bilbo’s underwear and trousers flopped over his head.

“Hobbit why are you up so early in the...” Thorin’s eyes traced up the naked figure of the halfling. His cheeks turning red before he tore his gaze away from Bilbo and to the side.

“O-oh my, oh my.” Was all Bilbo could say as he scrambled through his pack and quickly putting on some underwear and trousers. He pulled a shirt over his head. Soon as he could see he was greeted with the sight of Thorin holding out his discarded clothing, folded neatly to the hobbit. Bilbo settled his shirt and tucked it in neatly before taking the clothes and placing them on the end of the bed.

“I’m sorry that I threw those on you. I saw the bed empty and figured you had already gotten up for the day.” Bilbo murmured, his blush turning a dark red.

“A simple misunderstanding. It’s alright.”

“Why did you sleep on the floor?”

“What man sleeps on the bed when their equal is on the floor?”

Bilbo’s voice caught his his throat. He wanted to say that he wasn’t Thorin’s equal, that Thorin was a king, a gallant leader that made a home for his people hundreds of miles away from a dragon so they could continue to have their race live. He was the leader of their company that would take a blow for each and every one of them even Gandalf.

He swallowed hard, not sure where he should look. His heart was running a marathon in his chest and he couldn’t stop looking at Thorin’s lips or his eyes.

“I’m a... gonna go.” Bilbo stumbled, his large feet catching on each other. He moved clumsily to the side and to the door. “Please, feel free to um... use whatever you need and I, oh, I didn’t apologize, I am so sorry for what happened. And I’ll see if the others are up and about breakfast.” Bilbo skittered out the door and reopened it, “Again, I’m sorry.”

Thorin smiled a little over the flustering of Bilbo. It was heartwarming, like watching a kitten play with a puppy. It was a nice satisfaction that he could bolster such a reaction even if he couldn’t be with the hobbit.

When Bilbo managed to scuttle down the hallway he went to the tavern section of the inn and found Bofur with his brother and cousin already sipping on a morning pint.

“You’re not lookin’ at your best master hobbit,” Bofur winked at him. “Did something happen last night?”

“Don’t start that.” Bilbo slid onto the bench next to Bofur and covering his face with both of his hands. “I did the most embarrassing thing I ever could do.”

Bofur nearly choked on the beer in his mouth. He whirled around on Bilbo with an astonished face. He looked around making sure that Bombur and and Bifur were busy before he leaned close and whispered, “You didn’t go and do that thing did you?”

“Thing? What thing?”

“You know,” He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders as if that would tell all.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Did you give into his will?”

“What?! No, no. I just, threw my dirty clothes on him while changing.”

Bofur let out a hearty laugh patting Bilbo on the back. “And let me guess, before you could embarrass yourself you ran out here as quick as you could.”

Bilbo covered his face, beat read as Bofur filled in the other dwarfs at their table of why he was laughing in khuzdul making them laugh as well. Even though Bilbo didn’t know the language he knew the gist of what was going on. Bifur said something else that caused them to roar in another upheaval of laughter.

“Sounds like you’re making rather merry this morning.” Hawke’s voice spoke over the group as he took a seat on the other side of Bilbo.

“Yes, at my expense.” Bilbo groaned. Pushing it to the side he decided to focus on the new comer to filter out the dwarfish jibs. “How is your friend?”

“Anders woke up last night, he’s doing very well considering everything.” Hawke waved down a bar maid.

“That is very good to hear.”

“How are your hands?”

The hobbit looked down at his palms, the bandages red and sticking. “My hands do feel better than last night. Bofur, how are your hands?”

The dwarf grinned and showed his, unbandaged but clean. The raw looking state made Bilbo’s stomach flip flop. He took his friend’s wrist, “We need to get you some ointment.”

Hawke worried at his bottom lip, before placing an order for drink and food to be sent to his room. He got up and nudged Bilbo’s shoulder. “The two of you, come with me.”

They looked at him curiously as he got up and started to walk down the hallway. He had a water logged pack on him when the fished him out of the river. Maybe he did have some sort of ointment or something in the pack. The two followed suite as requested.

When Hawke went into his room he was greeted by the sight of Anders sitting up in bed, his blond hair loose around his chin barely brushing against his shoulders. He smiled at his honey eyed lover and crossed the room to him. Hawke ran a hand through Anders’ hair placing a kiss to his brow.

“How do you feel?” He asked sitting next to his beloved.

“Much better, everything still feels a bit hot though.”

“Well you did have the temperature of ice, everything is going to be hot to you until you’re fully healed.”

“I hate to force you to care for me.” Anders leaned into every touch Hawke gave him.

“Magic can do so much my dear. By the way,” he turned and waved Bilbo and Bofur into the room. “These two dwarfs are the ones that saved us.”

“Oh, I’m not a dwarf.” Bilbo corrected. The humans looked to him the say way every person did that had never seen a hobbit. He sighed a little. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit.” Bilbo offered his hand but pulled it back when Anders looked at his bandaged hand.

“I, on the other hand, am a dwarf. Bofur, at your service.” Bofur bowed a little tucking a thumb into his belt. “Master Hawke was tendin’ to you since we got you out of that river. You’re a lucky man indeed, more ways than one.”

Anders smiled a little, still feeling tired. “Thank you for saving him.”

Bilbo turned his head at this. “Saving him”? One only said such a thing if they had no view on self worth. No self worth meant a troubling past... like Thorin...

“I wanted you to take a look at their hands. The rope they used to save us was coarse and the current was fierce.” Hawke touched Anders face once more. “But only if you feel up to it.”

Anders sighed and lifted up his hands and waved the two saviors close. “Let me see your hands.”

Bofur held out his hands letting the human take hold of them, “It’s really nothin’ we were hopin’ you would have some ointment or somethin’ to help it heal.”

A light blue light trickled up from Anders palms into Bofur’s creating a strange heat that made it hard to see his hands. It tingled and itched and when the light stopped his hands were a little sore but completely mended. The dwarf held up his hands and flexed them every which way. “Now that is somethin’. Bilbo, you have got to try this.”

The halfling hesitated before he finally gave into the friendly faces surrounding him. He untied his bandages and held out his hands for Anders to repeat the action. Once it was done he scratched at his palms that tingled. “Oh my word. I thought Gandalf said that there were only five wizards in the world.” He then gasped. “You must be the two blueses.”

“There are a great many more mages in the world than five.” Anders said, wondering if he had hit his head a little too hard in his fall into the river.

“How many more are there in Middle Earth?” Bilbo squirmed like a child ready for story time.

Anders looked to Hawke, the same question going between the two of them. Where in Thedas was Middle Earth?

“Go on then, how many?” Bofur wanted to know too.

“Well, there are countless mages in Thedas. Surely you can tell us where the nearest Chantry is.” Hawke cut in trying to slip his way into the conversation already having an excuse that they were traveling from one Circle to another.

“Chantry?” Bofur rolled the thought around. In all of his travels he had never heard of something called a Chantry. “No, don’t know of one. Is it a new religion?”

“What of templars?” Anders asked quickly.

“Are they the priests of the Chantry?”

Anders groped for Hawke’s hand, squeezing tight. Even the dwarfs in Orzammar had heard of the Chantry and templars. Was he actually dead? Was this place heaven? No running. No Hiding. He looked to his lover and a whimper came out of his throat.

“You look like you need rest.” Bilbo tugged at Bofur. “Let us continue at a later date. Thank you for healing us. It was amazing and much appreciated.”

He pushed the dwarf out and gave a last look at the two on the bed. Hawke held Anders close, the mage had a hard grip on the cotton shirt that Hawke was wearing. They looked scared but also relieved. Something terrible was haunting them and somewhere in Bilbo’s stomach he felt that they had yet to find a true haven.

He went back into his room finding Thorin still there, hair tied up and out of his face, carefully trimming his beard in the only mirror provided. In the reflection in the mirror he saw Bilbo and he turned around.

“Is everything alright?” He turned around looking at the halfling.

“Thorin...” Bilbo carefully chose his words. Usually he would confide in Bofur since he was his best friend or even Gandalf since he was so old and wise but at the moment Bofur was just as confused as him and Gandalf was still off doing whatever a wizard does. “Have you traveled farther than Bofur and the others?”

“I suppose so.”

Bilbo came over, grabbing a small wooden chair and pulling it up beside Thorin. Something about this whole thing was making him feel uneasy. He licked his lips and rubbed his chin. “Have you heard of something called the Chantry before?”

The king gave it some thought before shaking his head. “I fear not.”

“What about a land called Thedas?”

“These are strange questions Master Baggins.”

Bilbo frowned. “I agree. But I would appreciate an answer nonetheless.”

“No. I have not heard of a land called Thedas. Why do you ask?”

Bilbo held out his completely healed hands. Thorin caught them up into his own, his fingers trailing along the new skin that was still sensitive to the touch. He poked and prodded, flexed and massaged to see if it was some sort of illusion and if it caused any pain at all to the burglar.

“What miracle brought you this?”

“Anders. He has magic.”

“I thought Gandalf said-”

“I questioned that as well.” Bilbo cut him off. “But I am quite certain now that they are not from any of our lands but from one a great deal away.”

“Then the question would be; how did they come upon the river that you had fished them out of?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll see what Flemeth is up to.


	5. Stepping into a new world

“Tell me, has your work been successful here in Middle Earth?” Flemeth sat across from Elrond, her legs crossed as she leaned her chin into a hand and stirred a delicately tapered elven cup of tea. 

“It has gone as expected. Mankind is now developing past our capability to help guide them and decide on their own fates.”

“BAH!” The witch flicked her fingers in the air. “Mankind know nothing of fate nor their chances against what is to come.”

“I believe they can handle our leaving.”

Flemeth’s eyes opened wide in amusement. “Leaving? Now that’s a grand idea to foster. Tell me, do the other Ancients believe this as well?”

“We have agreed to take the wizards with us as well as a select few that have proven themselves worthy.”

This ripped a loud laugh from the woman. She took her cup and drank from it, her eyes never leaving Elrond. She put down the cup the amusement flushed from her face. She locked his gaze, peering in, searching and finding what she needed to know before straightening her back. “You don’t see it. How fascinating. Tell me, what has the future told you.”

The elf cleared his throat. Asha’bellanar knew he did not have the best foresight out of the leaders of his people. She did know however that he was the most welcoming as well as the most understanding. Others of his race feared her while some of the others did not quite get along with her.

Elrond told her of what he knew true. A great battle with come, surrounding a golden light that pulled them all together. He knew his daughter would have a human child and how as a loving father had to convince her to continue on her life and not give it up. The more he told the more Flemeth seemed displeased. Then he stopped. If they fought hard enough everything will come out for the better.

“It is time I asked you a few questions Asha’bellanar.” He folded his hands over his lap and wondered how to word what was in his mind. She was a powerful being that not even his most skilled warrior by his side could stop her.

Flemeth nodded for him to continue when the silence drew out.

“Where are the other Valar?”

Gold eyes narrowed, the witch stiffened and uncrossed her legs. She stood up and slowly walked up to the elf. She trailed her clawed finger tips across the table and stopped right in front of him. She looked down at him letting her well carved mask fall for the first time in so very long. Elrond found that she looked sad, perhaps even a bit vulnerable. And he dreaded her answer. Such powerful beings. They had been sent to Thedas as he, his kind, and the five wizards had been sent to shape Middle Earth. Thedas had been larger, steeped in the old magic forcing the stronger beings to care for those that dwelled within. A long time ago they had many roads that connected Thedas with Middle Earth, deep under the mountains. Entrusted with the forever sturdy and daunting race of the dwarves as their protectors. Long lost to time and even the long lives of the wizards and elves of the world have forgotten where they lay.

“Do you really wish to know?” She asked softly.

He didn’t but he needed to know why she was there. “Yes.”

“They died. One by one, picked off by man... elf... even our trusted dwarfs. …....All gone. I am the last to walk upon this world.”

Elrond slowly stood, “What of Osen?”

“Gone as well. We had been the last, only able to survive relying upon one another until...” Her throat tightened and her brow knitted.

“He was a good man. I am sorry for your loss.”

“No more than I.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Anders moved slowly, dressed in the clothing of the common clothing that was provided by his new friends. He didn’t have a hair tie just yet but he was feeling better and paid little mind to having to tuck his hair behind his ear.

He was shaken. Never did he think he would have been able to be in such a place. When he was young he would fantasize of a land far away where no one cared what he was, didn’t throw rocks at him because he had magic, helpful or no. This was a place of relief, refuge, a haven so far out of reach and here he is. With Hawke... his Garrett.

He had always thought he would find a pub and party until the dawn came but now that it came true he didn’t know what to do. He wondered if he did anything that he would wake in the deep roads and be alone and still cold.

“How are you doing laddy?” Balin came up to Anders’ side a list of necessities in his hands. “We’re not too far from the tavern if you would like to go back.”

“No. What is the next thing on the list?”

“Well, Master Hawke and Thorin are picking up supplies for your journey to resume after you are well enough to travel. That takes care of half of what needs to be collected.” The old dwarf scratched at his beard. “That leaves tobacco for the company, stock up on bandages and ointments. Until Gandalf meets up with us we will hold off on restocking the other supplies.”

“How long until your own journey will end?” Anders asked, moving in step with Balin in search for a shop that would have what they wanted.

“That... is hard to say.” Balin’s face pulled into a grim frown. It was the same expression that Hawke wore when he knew there would be a conflict that would end with someone’s life cut short. That look never sat well with Anders. Aedan Cousland wore it, Justice always had it, Hawke, Varric, even once himself, and it hurt. When you knew someone was to die and it had to happen... death claimed a bit of your soul each time as toll for knowing and allowing it to happen.

They changed the subject quickly getting to know each other. Anders found Balin to be a very mild mannered dwarf nothing like he was used to. He was a saint compared to Ogren, then again, most people were.

When they were in the last shop Hawke and Thorin met up with them. Hawke coming up behind Anders and pulling him close with one arm and nuzzled the mage’s temple.

“You’re lucky I know you so well,” Anders smiled, placing a hand on Hawke’s arm. “If you were anyone else I would have been forced to defend myself.”

Hawke smirked, “It is good to know you still have your spunk and that I’m still granted my privileges.”

“Did you get what we need?” He asked browsing through a random book, thumbing through it with total concentration. Reminiscent from his time he lived in the Amell family mansion for a year or so.

“Yes. Although they do not sell staffs and both of ours were lost in the river.”

“We might be able to make some if we can find the proper crystals. I would prefer to have one before we leave though it is not pressing seeing we do not have templars to flee from.” He said softly so the others could not hear. “Can I get this book? It has an interesting history of the area.”

“We can try. It seems the minting of our currency is different from theirs and we have to have a dwarf confirm that we do indeed have gold and silver. Anything you desire?”

“No just...” Anders brows knitted together. Something was stirring Justice. He tumbled inside Anders like churned water. He turned and looked around.

“What is it?” Hawke pulled Anders tighter to his chest. He knew that look and it never meant good things were to come.

“I don’t know. It’s like... something dark is near. Very dark, greedy, and...” He blinked looking around the shop. “...calling.”

At that moment Bilbo and Bofur walked into the shop, the hobbit properly dressed in his waistcoat and laughing at something Bofur had said. They saw their companions and hurried over. A blue flash of light burned behind Anders eyes. His stomach twisted and he covered his mouth as a strange smell made him feel sick. The book he held fell to the floor.

“Anders!” Hawke held his lover up. 

“Is he okay?” Bilbo asked coming up.

Anders tried to move back, a smell worse than the Kirkwall sewers during midsummer washed over him and he tried not to retch.

“I think he has pushed himself a little too much,” Balin cut in. “It would be best to take him back to your room.”

Hawke nodded, pulling Anders along assuring all the eyes that trailed on them that everything will be alright and he just needs another day of rest.

Once they were back in their room Hawke pushed Anders down in the bed, his palm going over the mage’s brow feeling for sweat and heat.

“I’m alright, love.” Anders took a hold of Hawke’s hand and pulled it his lips, placing a kiss.

“You’re not alright. And before you insist that you are, explain what just happened.”

“Remember how I said something was coming up?”

“Yes.”

“It also smelled. It was, it was so sickening.”

“A smell? I didn’t smell anything. Or are you saying it was more like something Justice interpreted.”

“Garrett... you know how the air smells when you use your lightning spells?”

Hawke nearly growled not liking where this was going. “You were smelling a dark magic. Where was it coming from?”

“I’m not sure.”

Hawke caressed Anders’ cheek, leaning down and sealing their lips in a kiss. He wanted to ask more questions, he wanted to know how dangerous this dark magic was. But more than anything, this new place with no templars, this new world, it held untold dangers that set him on edge. Anders was the only one he had left and he was going to protect his mage.


	6. To dance in the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is fluffy because we need it with some action on the end

Hawke held out his hand, the heavy rain pelted down onto his palm. A rumble of thunder growled over head. He always had an attraction to rain. To the storms that came and went. Something about them made him wonder under the clouds wanting to travel with them to somewhere that was calling. But that feeling dulled and disappeared whenever he was with Anders. When it first happened in Kirkwall he had seen the mage crouched outside of a building holding his coat up over a cat that started to give birth on her way home. He eased the small black and white beast and cooed reassuring words that only the rain could hear.

The second time was when he had been drunk. So drunk he was pretty sure Varric’s stories had all been chantry truth and was sent home by the dwarf. He had stumbled his way around, humming listening to the sounds of the storm, sometimes skipping and letting out fun hollers all out of the means of making merry. “Hawke?” the voice stopped him and he stumbled a little turning to look and finding Anders who had just left the alienage. “What are you doing out here? Kirkwall rain is not something you want to be out in.”

“Why?” He had asked.

“The pollution for the city makes the rain... unagreeable with most bodies.”

Hawke waved his hand in a dismissive manner, “Ppppft, I’m fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m that too. Hey, did you know that Varric single handedly ripped the heart out of a genlock once? I was there too and I snapped an ogre’s neck with just my thighs!” Hawke looked down at his legs and bent his knees, “I didn’t think I was that strong.”

Anders laughed at this. He smiled at his friend and shook his head. “Next time you go drinking I should go with you, if you are like this when you are drunk.” His grin died when he noticed Hawke looking at him with the most peculiar expression. “What?”

“You have a wonderful laugh.” He smiled like a dope.

Anders blushed and took a step back. “I-... thank you Hawke.”

“Garrett.”

“Excuse me?”

“My first name is Garrett. You’ll have to get used to calling me that.”

The mage’s brows knitted together in confusion. What an odd thing to say. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you make it stop.”

Anders had not said much else after that, merely excused himself and Hawke looked up at the sky feeling the tug of needing to travel go in Anders’ direction. He didn’t though, but he knew then, the mage was his destination. The goal of his life would be met once he got to settle down with that wonderful blond. But not in Kirkwall, he didn’t want dirty rain to bless them for the rest of their lives together.

“Garrett?” Anders’ voice pulled him out of his memories. “You have that look again.”

He smiled pulled the mage out into the rain. Eventually he told Anders of his strange needs and wants. The mage took it well and believed it was a kind of fate fixed into place that they were to meet. 

Hawke placed an arm around Anders’ waist the other gripping his hand off to the side and started to dance with his lover in the middle of the muddy street. He hummed a familiar tune as his love danced with him in the rain, accustomed to his bouts of strange behavior. He buried his face into the crook of Anders’ neck taking in a deep scent. Oh how he smelled so good in this clean, clean rain.

“They’re insane.” Bofur chuckled from inside the tavern looking out the window at the two dancing outside.

Bilbo watched them with softer eyes. They were perfect together. They moved fluidly, two beings into one. From the silly little dance he could see every bit of their happiness and love and it forced a long breath through his nose in a long sigh. He would never be able to dance with someone like that. Hobbits had very different dances and so did dwarves and he would ask them to teach him the dance only Anders always got sick when Bilbo was around, so he ended up staying away and watching them quickly become friends with all of the company. Hell, Hawke was practically Thorin’s best friend now and Bilbo... Bilbo was alone. He just wish he knew why Anders got sick around him.

“Ah, don’t let it bother you. He’s gotten better, you can at least stay in the same room as one another now.” Bofur said knowing exactly what his best friend was thinking.

“Easy for you to say. You get to play that card game they taught you and get to hear all the stories and get to-”

“Now don’t start that again.” Bofur leaned over the table they were sitting at. “You’re just gonna get yourself upset again and then I’ll be the one gettin’ a thrashin’ from Thorin later on.”

“I’m going to my room.” He got up and shuffled away intent on taking a nap on his bed for once.

Once he got there he was a bit surprised to find Thorin already fast asleep on the bed. Bilbo had already worked himself into a good depression and really didn’t care about formalities at the moment. He took off his jacket and waistcoat, folded them neatly and put them to the side. He laid himself on top of the covers next to the dwarf, he closed his eyes and listened to the combination of Thorin’s calm breathing and the tapping of rain on the roof. He folded his hands on his stomach and felt at peace. It was easy for him to slip into slumber.

Back outside Anders finally broke their dance and pulled Hawke along. While the mage had a hood up to protect himself from the elements Hawke merrily bounded around in the mud and grass like a hyperactive child. He was used to this, it happened with every storm. It was like a charge for Hawke who specialized in elemental magic.

“Love, could you please focus on finding some elfroot.” Anders called out as Hawke slid down a slope.

Hawke saluted him with two fingers and skittered off. Maker, Anders was tempted to head back to the warmth of the tavern. The only thing stopping him was that he indeed needed to find some elfroot. The ointments they have available were low grade things that could barely sooth a bruise. He needed to make a few poultices before they even thought about leaving the town and as it stood they didn’t know this world and so they decided to travel with Thorin and his company. For how long that was to be determined later.

It took some time, and some venturing into the woods before he found anything that even looked like elfroot. Luckily it grew in a large cluster of them. He quickly started picking stuffing them into the satchel he had slung over his shoulder.

A strange shiver ran down his back. He was being watched.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bilbo woke from his nap with his face against soft fabric. He sleepily nuzzled it as he tried to rid himself of being drowsy. There was a warmth on his butt that he was enjoying before it slipped to his waist and he realized it was a hand. He stiffened. Who had been touching his butt? He propped himself up onto his elbow and looked around the room. No one. The arm around him stiffened and he was brought to an all too quick reality. He looked down at Thorin who had just woken up himself.

They stared at each other for a while. It was an odd situation but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact it took a lot of restraint not to lay right back down and snuggle close. Bilbo moved his eyes from Thorin’s locked gaze. Down his shoulder to his broad chest and blushed from the small wet spot caused from him drooling in his sleep.

Thorin sat up, cold filled where his warmth had been. “I apologize, I was asleep.”

“I know.” Bilbo said softly. His heart thumping in his chest. Oh god how embarrassing! “I.. I’m sorry I drooled on your shirt.”

The king chuckled. “I do not mind. The shirt needed washing anyway.”

“Thorin?”

“Yes?”

“...I...” He choked on his words. He closed his eyes and saw how happy Hawke and Anders were together. It was so wonderful. It made his Baggins side hurt knowing he would never have something as solid as that, but it left room for the Took to put pressure on him to try.

“What is it?” Thorin asked softly. Bilbo almost didn’t hear him from the thunder outside.

“Why have you stopped?”

The dwarf moved to fully face the hobbit. “What do you mean?”

“Trying to.. um..” He licked his lips. How does one just come out and say such things? He decided to just outright say it when a loud bell started to ring. A crier shouted as loud as he could, “Warg! Warg attack!!”

Without a word they scrambled off of the bed.

\-----------------------

“Shit!” Anders dove as a large beast of a creature lunged at him. He slid on the mud wincing at the sound of a large jaw clamping shut only inches from his back. With all the rain and a without a staff fire spells were out of the question. He couldn’t risk an ice spell just for the fun fact that he couldn’t risk freezing the elfroot. Without a staff to focus his powers through magic had a lovely way of black lashing on the wielder and he had no intentions of becoming an abomination.

He rolled, fist in hand jabbing the creature’s jowls with his elbow causing a whimper if it was from him or the massive dog he had no idea. Nevertheless it backed off allowing him to scramble out from under it and run as fast as he could towards the safety of the village. He ducked and wove through the forest trees.

He was cut off by one of the creatures, its head low as it growled. Anders swallowed and gripped the bag with his elfroot. Oh he had a feeling he would be using all of those tonight. It lunged forward, hitting him square in the gut. It flung him into the air a good distance forcing him to land hard on the ground in a roll. He scrambled up to his knees.

Everything slowed as his heart beat hard. A blinding light overtook his vision, it had been a while since he had felt such a sensation. He had almost forgotten the feel of the fade. Having it with him it came second nature like breathing, he never put much thought into it but whenever Justice came out it was a whole new experience that he had let slip from his mind. He sighed and sat down on the strange ground of the fade. Justice was in control, he could use the magic in the body without a staff. He didn’t risk turning into an abomination.

\------------------------------------------------

Hawke stabbed the dagger in his hand into the warg as many times as he could as it tried to wrap its mouth around anything of him it could get. The teeth came down on his leg right when he found an eye to jab out. The beast threw him on the ground, the dagger lost from Hawke’s grip as it had logged in the warg.

He had managed to kill two with the stupid little thing. He was one that didn’t like to use his magic unless need be. If he could defend himself by other means he would take it but at the moment he was out of options. He shook his hand feeling the familiar heat of a fireball ebbing into life.

A new Warg came at him. He raised his hand to light it on fire when an arrow shot straight into the head of the creature dropping it in mid-run. He pushed himself up finding Kili reading another arrow a good 80 paces away. He heard the stories but as he watched the archer pluck off the wargs with accuracy he had to be impressed. Charging around the young dwarf were others of Thorin’s company including Thorin himself in light clothing as well as some men from the town. 

Hawke pulled himself onto his feet. The prickle of a surge of magic came from within the forest he had been skirting. He braced his feet and crossed his arms in front of him before a force push ripped through the battle front. It was powerful enough to knock over a few trees that had been leaning. It threw off the fighters and the wargs alike.

The fight stopped. All attention turned to the forest.

“What in Durin’s beard was that?!” Dwalin yelled breaking the tense silence.

Hawke swallowed. He could feel it coming closer, stronger than ever. His mind filled with panic. That magic was not Anders it was something completely different. Something that should not be walking among men.

The growling wargs tucked their tails between their legs, slowly backing away, heckles up higher than when they had attacked. Step by step this thing came closer. Hawke felt his muscles tighten.

Whatever it was. It made the wrags turn and yelp away.


End file.
